Sauron, Prince of Wolves
by Writing-Gecko-Girl
Summary: Mairon meets a wolf for the first time, curtesy of Aulë and Yavanna, and begins his fall from grace.


**Sauron was originally called the 'Prince of Cats,' but then he lost the association with cats. So I've given him the title 'Prince of Wolves' instead. I'm not certain if he canonically ever had this title, but he was known to associate with wolves and take on their form.**

**Aulë is the Vala of Smithing (who taught both Sauron and Sarumon as well as the Noldor (why do they let this guy near anything?))**

**Mairon is Sauron's original name (just FYI he has scarring on his neck from fighting a dog named Huan)**

**Yavanna is Aulë's wife. She made Ents one day when she got made at her husband for making dwarves. Also made the Two Trees and taught Radaghast. I'm just saying she's pretty awesome!**

* * *

Aulë was used to strange creatures. His wife brought home all manner of plant and animal life and he was just learning to deal with it. But most were not this, well, frightening.

The wolf pup stared at him questioningly. Rather than approach it, or even attempt to go around it, he backed up and leaned out the door. "Dearest-"

"Leave the wolf be!"

"Yes, but is it going to-"

"It is not going to eat you." Yavanna emerged from the woods, brushing dirt off her hands. "Nor anything else it shouldn't."

Aulë raised an eyebrow. "You've said that before."

"How was I to know that Melkor had created carnivorous plants?" she demanded. She sighed, and glanced sideways, almost as if she was slightly apologetic. "It didn't kill Curumo, merely frightened him a little." The apologetic tone vanished when she added, "He shouldn't have let Mairon dare him to pull the leaves off."

"It only frightened half the house," the Great Smith muttered under his breath.

"I can hear you." She folded her arms across her chest. "As for the wolf, leave it be and it won't hurt you."

"How can I get upstairs? It is laying on the steps."

"Really dear, it is not that hard. Just use the back staircase."

He leaned back inside and looked at the pup. Really, I am being silly. I will just walk around it and- the moment he stepped toward it, it's eyes opened and it growled. He backed out of the room and went around to the back staircase. _Better safe than sorry._

* * *

He was roughly awoken several hours later by a less than pleased Yavanna. "Hmm?" He admitted to being frightened by awaking to her bending over him with a murderous glint in her eyes. _I have not seen her since she realized that fires do, indeed, require wood. I don't like where this is going._

"Where is it?" she hissed.

"What?"

"The wolf pup," she snarled, "is missing."

Save me. He sat up and glanced at her nervously. "I didn't do anything to the creature. I came up the back stairs."

He wasn't convinced she believed him. "I'll look for it." He swung his legs out of the bed and pulled on a night robe.

Now that he had agreed to help she seemed less angry, and more frightened. "I don't want it wandering into the forge," she said, wringing her hands. "Or near your Maia. They mean well, but…"

"They enjoy joking around," Aulë finished. _Mairon, if you've harmed that thing, unintentionally or not, I won't save you from her wrath. _He couldn't shake the feeling that the rather mischievous young Maia was involved, and his feelings were seldom wrong.

He led the way downstairs, Yavanna trailing behind him. The large room was dim, and the light from the dying fire threw shadows across the room. "I put him in the basket last night." She pointed to a basket by the stairs, clearly empty.

Aulë nudged it with his toe, almost expecting the creature to jump out anyway. When nothing happened he crossed the room, sweeping his eyes through the shadows. "Mairon fell asleep here again." The top of his fiery head was all that was visible, the rest of him tucked into a cloak or blanket.

"I saw him."

"You went looking for him," Aulë muttered under his breath.

"What was that, dear?"

He ignored her and shook the Maia gently. "Wake up," he said, giving the red hair a tug.

Mairon shifted and grumbled in his sleep, then began blinking. "Morning," he said sleepily. He pulled his hair free of Aulë's grasp.

"It's the middle of the night. You need to go upstairs, you'll ache in the morning if you sleep down here."

"No I won't," the Maia argued. He ignored his lord and shifted, wrapping the blankets farther around himself.

Ordinarily Aulë would have just left him, asleep downstairs, and assumed that the stiffness he would feel the next day would be enough of a natural consequence. But Yavanna was watching, so he had to pretend to have some amount of control over his Maia. He shook the boy by his shoulder gently, and was growled at in response.

Aulë pulled his hand back in alarm, fulling intending to have serious words about respect and threats and that neither was alright. The blankets fell away and the missing wolf pup tumbled to the ground. It rolled over and raised it's hackles at Aulë.

Mairon was awake then, scrambling out of the chair to scoop up the puppy. "Sorry!" Kneeling on the ground his ran his fingers over the fluffy head and cooed.

Aulë chuckled. "The creature is fine dearest, let Mairon keep it company if he likes."

Yavanna looked at him uncertainly, but finally nodded her consent. "Do not," she warned, "hurt him."

The cheeky Maia asked, "Are you talking to me or the puppy?"

Yavanna didn't answer, just swept from the room in dignified silence. Aulë stayed long enough to suggest, "Both." Then he followed his wife back upstairs, glancing over his shoulder to see Mairon drop into the chair and hug the pup tightly.

* * *

From that day on, the Maia was inseparable from the creature, it followed him everywhere and chased off any larger Maia (and, Aulë wryly reflected, most were) who dared to bother him.

"Mairon," Aulë finally said one day, watching the Maia hurry along with the wolf trailing behind him. "You do realize that he's going to be bigger than you?"

"Yes."

The great smith shrugged. "Carry on."

Mairon grinned and hurried off to complete whatever task it was he was doing. He was spending a lot of time wandering away recently, with just the wolf for company. Until the destruction of the Lamps Aulë thought nothing of it, then he realized that he had been speaking with Melkor.

* * *

The forces of Utomno were finally falling back, many were fleeing, and it seemed that the battle had been won. Aulë was searching for his wife, hurrying through the dark corridors alone.

The wolf surprised him.

It was on him in a second, racing from somewhere down the hall. He was thrown back, pinned to the ground, and suddenly wondering what would happen if it tore his head off. It certainly could, easily. His war hammer had been thrown from his grip, and he was helpless, pinned by the salivating beast.

A harsh command in the guttural language created by Melkor's monsters stopped it. It lifted its weight from him, and he looked around for his savior. All he saw was another wolf, larger and by far more frightening than the first.

He recognized the eyes and the color of the fur.

"Mairon."

The response was not vocal, not even a wolf noise. It was in the tilt of the head, the curl (almost playful smile) of the lips, the twitching of the ears. Aulë had found his wayward apprentice.

"Mairon," he smiled and reached a hand toward the wolf.

Instantly he drew back and snarled, another clear message – Aulë could not be assured of mercy again. The questions died on his lips and he mournfully watched his Maia race away from him, no doubt to follow Melkor to his fate.

* * *

He did not see his apprentice for sometime, but he heard plenty. He closed his ears to the whispers, trying to tell himself it was not the same Maia. But when he took the form of a great wolf he knew he was deluding himself.

When Curumo was sent into the world he prayed he would not lose two apprentices to the dark. Yet he did, and Saruman, as he became known, fell into the Shadow of Morgoth as easily as Mairon had many ages before.

The Ring was destroyed, and it seemed all of Sauron's strength gone with it. Aulë decided he would never see the Maia again, and told himself that he was better off because of it.

He was working alone in his forges on afternoon, well into the Fifth Age. An injured wolf limped inside and curled beside the fire. Aulë watched it curiously, animals often wandered through, because Yavanna was always kind to them, but something about this one stopped him from calling his wife. The poor thing was weak, obviously in pain, and looking for a place to die. He doubted even the greatest healer could save it now.

He knew enough about wolves to know this one was very small, unhealthy, but something in how it carried itself said that it was very old. The great smith knelt and rubbed the wolf's head, it responded by leaning into the touch and whimpering.

"There, there, now." It began to panic when he grabbed it by the scruff of the neck, whimpering and thrashing. He held it against his chest and looked down at it. Even though it was still puppy-sized, he stood by his belief that it was ancient in years. After cradling it for a moment he set it beside the fire again, this time atop a table.

Then he returned to his work and let it be, not looking at it again, even when it's body stilled and the breathing stopped.

Long into the evening he left it alone, and when he finally finished he packed away his tools and only then turned back to the still body. Carefully he felt around the neck, confirming his theory when he felt the lines of scarring from a long ago bite. He lifted the still body to his chest, and carried it outside.

Yavanna met him near the house, and held out her arms. "I heard you had found a wounded pup," she said, clearly wishing to heal it.

"He's dead."

She frowned and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "It was alive enough when I heard of it. Why did you not bring it to me sooner?"

"He did not need, and would not have benefited from, your help."

She was clearly displeased. "Oh? What makes you think that?" Once again she beckoned for him to place the creature into her arms.

Aulë wordlessly passed her the still body and she pulled it against her body. "This cannot be-"

"It is him. He must have finally been able to reform a body, and chose this one. If he wanted the comfort of a forge in his final moments I shall not take that from him. He is in Namo's care now, and out of my jurisdiction."

Her eyes brimmed with tears, but he forced himself to remain emotionless. Seeing that he needed to be alone she said, "I will take care of his body, dear." Yavanna turned and started to walk back toward the house.

"Burn it, he would have liked that."

She stopped, turned, and smiled brilliantly. "I think he would have."

Aulë watched her leave, walking into the woods with the still form cradled against her chest. He closed his eyes – and made a mental note to speak to Namo. If the Maia was to be offered a second chance, Aulë was going to make certain he didn't waste it.

"How did you get here?" he mused aloud. "You should have been in Arda Marred."

The screeching of an Eagle was the only answer, but it was, perhaps, enough.


End file.
